Remind Me To Breathe
by EffulgentMiri
Summary: A Katie BellOliver Wood fanfic. Begins in Book 1 and will continue throughout the books. Includes lovely awkwardness, lots of Quidditch, and in the words of Cassie Claire, snogs galore.
1. Losing Grip

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Remind Me To Breathe

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By Christelle

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Author's Note: I've been lingering around the Katie/Oliver community for a while now, and now I've finally started my own. Please, tell me what you think! The story's told from Katie Bell's point of view. 

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Disclaimer: Once, under the influence of lots and lots of Cherry Coke, I decided that J.K. Rowling's characters and setting were my own. I learned my lesson after staring at the cheaply whitewashed wall of a jail cell for fourteen hours. Learn from my mistakes: please, don't drink and write.

Are you aware of what 

You make me feel, baby

Right now I feel invisible to you

Like I'm not real

~Avril Lavigne, "Losing Grip"

Chapter One

"Losing Grip"

Catch. Throw. Wait. Watch. Catch. Fly. Throw.

Going through the motions. Just going through the motions.

"EXCELLENT!" shouted Wood as Angelina, Alicia, and I collaborated to put the Quaffle through the far-left hoop. "Absolutely fantastic, girls! The Cup's ours for sure this year."

Fred and George flew lazily up to the four of us, executing wide, fake yawns. "Yes, yes, very good, Chaser-chicks -- can we go in now?" Fred asked.

George nodded. "Yes, we're tired, Oliver. We'll be no use to you dead, you know," he said.

"What? Oh, yes... I suppose it is getting rather late, isn't it?" Wood said, glancing up at the dark sky. His hair was windswept and his face was flushed from the cold. Breathe, Bell, breathe. Damn you, Oliver Wood.

Wood wheeled his broom and dived sharply toward the ground, pulling up just as the handle was a fraction of an inch from the ground. He waited impatiently while the rest of us settled on the leaf-scattered turf. 

"Right. Hit the showers, team." 

He spun away and strode toward the locker rooms. I narrowed my eyes at his retreating back. How dare he be so lively after all he'd just put us through? The very nerve...

Angelina's groan interrupted my internal tirade. She moaned piteously again as we all looked at her. "I can't stand this," she muttered. "He's impossible..."

"Is it always like this?" said Harry Potter, the new Seeker. I pity him – fame is all very well, but I'm sure he wearies of hearing the same questions over and over again... people curious about what he does and doesn't remember... I must confess I've been more than a little curious myself. So far I've restrained myself from asking. 

"Yes," I said to him now, grinning like a madwoman. "It's _always _like this. It will _never get any better._"

And, with a little mad laughter, I tottered off to the lockers and a hot shower, followed lazily by the Weasley twins, Angelina, Alicia, and Harry. 

I pushed open the door and nearly ran into Wood. "Oliver?" I said inquiringly.

He seemed to be rather paralyzed. I shoved him unceremoniously and he stumbled forward, looking back at me reproachfully.

"I warned you – oh, my God..." I dodged a firework that whizzed past my head, missing my face by inches. It wasn't alone in its sparkling vividness. Whoever had set this up must have bought out Filibuster's entire stock.

My eyes traveled around the room, taking in the chaos in its extremity. Clothes scattered the floor; lockers swung forward on their hinges, open, the locks twisted masses of molten lead. Weren't there Anti-Jinx spells on those locks? The crate that held the Quidditch balls had been upturned: the Golden Snitch fluttered around the room, released from its cage. It wasn't the only thing with wings in the room. An owl hooted from the top of the lockers. Catching sight of something tied to its leg, I reached up and the owl condescended to step onto my arm. 

Wood untied the note and held it up, frowning. "There's nothing on it," he said. 

"What?" I snapped, snatching it from him. I'd had quite enough for one night, for God's sake. This was getting ridiculous. 

"What's going on?" 

The rest of the team had caught up. I moved forward to allow them to enter the room, not really desiring the treatment I myself had granted Wood. 

"See? It's blank," he said. 

"No... it's not," I answered. I pointed to something in the center of the ragged strip of parchment. 

"Blood," gasped Angelina, throwing a hand to her heart. 

"Don't be silly," I said, peering at it. "It's just red ink." 

"Someone's idea of a bad joke, no doubt," said Alicia. 

"What?" said Fred and George simultaneously as all eyes turned to them.

"I don't know – is there a reason we should be looking at you?" questioned Wood. His Scottish accent was even more prominent than usual. Something about the shock of finding his locker room in shambles, I expect. I'm not complaining.

"Who, us?" retorted George, looking hurt. 

"There's an old adage about fouling one's own nest," added Fred. 

We turned back to the disorder in front of us. Harry snatched the Snitch as it whizzed past Angelina's knee. He pinned its wings to its sides and thrust it back into the crate. George, still carrying a struggling Bludger, strapped it back in as well. He dusted his hands off and looked at Fred. 

"Don't you have the other Bludger, mate?" asked George. 

"Who, me?" said Fred, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you got them both."

The door crashed open and Professor McGonagall swept in, wearing her tartan dressing gown. 

"Professor?" said Wood, retaining as much dignity as possible. McGonagall's eyes widened and her lips tightened as she stared around the room.

"What," she said, her nostrils flaring, "has been happening here, Wood?"

Wood coughed. I felt rather sorry for him. 

"Er," pronounced our captain. "Well, that's just the thing, Professor..."

"I suggest," interrupted McGonagall, giving the Weasleys a hard look, "that you clean this... mess... up. Now." 

She thrust a Bludger at Wood, who, after the initial surprise, caught it and forced it into the crate and strapped it in.

"You are very lucky indeed," said Professor McGonagall as she swept out again. "If the glass in the windows of my office was not easily repairable by magic, you would be in very deep trouble. I would hate to take playing rights away from my own _House._"

The door slammed shut again.

"What?" said Harry, staring after her.

"I think that damned Bludger broke her office window," Angelina said in a strangled voice. She pulled a fragment of glass out of a crack in the Bludger's exterior. She glared at Wood. "I just hope you're happy, _Captain,_" she snarled, and she stalked away. Alicia followed. I grinned at Wood's stunned expression.

"She gets cranky when she's tired, Oliver," I said. "Something about the late-night practice, I expect."

I stumbled over to the showers, where Angelina and Alicia were already washing. I struggled out of my clothes and turned on the hot jet, letting the hot water run over my tired body. I closed my eyes. Ah, yes... hot showers must be God's gift to Quidditch players.

Especially to Quidditch players under the captaincy of the Incredibly Handsome Mr. Wood.

"Um... Kate?" called Angie from the other side of the shower. "It's getting rather late. You almost done?"

"Yeah," said Alicia. "We're already dressed. Hurry up."

"You guys go ahead," I said, not willing to leave the comfort of my shower. "I'll catch up. My weary limbs need rejuvenation."

I heard Angelina's empathetic chuckle and Alicia saying, "Okay, Katie. We'll be upstairs."

Then I closed my eyes and fell asleep on my feet. Literally. 

*

Darkness. Sweet darkness. And hot water, nice relaxing hot water... heaven. It's the only explanation. I've died and gone to heaven. Mmmmm...

"Bell?" 

My eyes snapped open. Not that Oliver Wood wasn't present in his entirety in my version of heaven, but dear Lord. What time was it? Just how long had I been dozing?

"Yes?" I said in a strained voice. 

"You've been in there quite a while," he said. I could just _see _him, with that sexy questioning look on his face... Bell! Breathe, Bell, breathe!

"Yes," I confirmed. "Er – what time is it, Oliver?"

"Ten thirty," he said, after a pause. "Everything okay?"

"Quite," I forced out. "And – what's curfew, again?"

"Ten," Wood said calmly. 

"Oh," I said. I think I must have sounded rather freaked out, because he said,

"Calm down, Bell. How do you think I've survived so long in this school?"

"What?" I said brilliantly. 

"Here – I'm going back to the lockers. Come out when you're dressed."

I heard his footsteps recede back into the adjoining room. What the hell was he talking about? Quickly I shrugged into my jeans and sweater.

I didn't see him at first when I walked into the locker room, so I went to my locker and shoved my Quidditch robes into it, locking it with a muttered spell. When I turned around he was there. 

"What were you going on about?" I demanded. "Shit. I've already got that detention for Snape..."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Calm down," he said again. He pulled out his wand and reached for my hand. He muttered something under his breath and... he – wasn't _there_ anymore. It was as simple as that. I looked at our joined hands and discovered very quickly that _I _wasn't there either.

"What was that?" I shrieked. "Where are you? Where am _I?"_

I struggled and he tightened his hold on my hand. He grabbed my other arm to stop my frantic flailing. Whoa. He was stronger than even I'd given him credit for.

"Calm," he said. "Breathe, Bell, breathe."

Okay, that was when I got really wigged out. I mean, he's not supposed to know my private mantra! Especially not the mantra I use when he's affecting me too much! No one's supposed to know that mantra, not even Angelina and Alicia. I suppose it's not a very _original _private mantra, but still... 

But I took a deep breath to show that I'd been listening.

"Good," Wood said. "Right, then... let's go."

"Let me get this straight," I said, as he led me toward the door. "You know how to do a _Cloaking Spell?_ That is N.E.W.T. level magic!" 

"Well," said Wood. I could _see _him blushing, I could _see him... _Breathe, Bell, breathe...

"Well?" I prodded.

"My brother taught it to me," he said, as if this would remove my inquisition from him. Oh, really, Oliver? Your _brother _can do a Cloaking Spell? But, but, he's only, what – twenty, twenty-five? Oh, then it's not impressive at all that you can do one. Your ability pales beside that of your brother. He hasn't already taken N.E.W.T.s or anything like that. I mean, he's only five or ten years older and more experienced than you are.

I made an effort and stopped my inner tirade for the second time that night. Whoa, chill out, Bell.

And all I said was, "Ah."

The silence we walked in wasn't uncomfortable; it was necessary. There's a difference. We barely got past Peeves on the second floor corridor ("What? Wot's zis? I knows you're there, ickle kiddies! Peeves should call Mr. Filch, hmmmm?") and I felt sure the Bloody Baron saw right through us. But Wood never let go of my hand. I think I remember reading that contact is necessary for Cloaking Spells, but it still reassured me. 

We were just outside the Fat Lady when her portrait swung open from the inside. Wood swore under his breath and spun me around against the wall. The length of his body pressed into me. 

Breathe, Bell, breathe. _Breathe, _dammit...

I barely saw Harry step out of the common room, looking furtively around, but I noticed when he disappeared. The Fat Lady hadn't even closed before Wood led me inside. He released me at the foot of the girls' dormitories and we both reappeared. He looked shaken, and his face was flushed. I doubted it was from the cold this time. 

"Did you notice what Potter had?" he said to me.

"What? No," I said. I was too busy noticing _you_, Mr. Wood.

"That boy's got an Invisibility Cloak," he said. "My God... well, good night, Bell. See you tomorrow."

I fell into bed without even undressing. It had been a very, very long day.

*

I was in bad shape the next morning. My head ached and my throat was sore. Needless to say, I wasn't in a great mood.

"Are you okay, Katie?" Alicia asked me when I overslept.

"I'm just peachy," I croaked crossly. I swung my legs over the bed and clutched my head, moaning.

"What's wrong with her?" I heard Angelina whisper to Alicia.

"I think she's got a headache," Alicia hissed back. Brilliant deduction, Lish. 

I glared at them both for good measure and stalked to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would clear my throbbing head. 

Shower.

Last night. Shower. Sleeping in the shower. Wood. 

Oh, yeah. 

My day was looking up.

"Um, Kate?" Angie called from the bedroom. 

"Yeah?" I said, pulling myself back to reality. 

"We're gonna be late for breakfast. You almost through?" 

"Go ahead," I said again. "I'm not really hungry."

"No, we'll wait for you." That was Alicia.

"No, really," I said. "I'm gonna swing by the hospital wing and see if Madam Pomfrey has anything for a headache."

"Okay. See you in Charms, then."

I waited until I heard the door close before turning off the shower. I really, really hoped Pomfrey _did _have something for a headache. I think the hot water aggravated it rather than improved it. 

*

My book-filled bag swung merrily against my derriere as I walked downstairs to the hospital wing. My mood fouled with each step. By the time I reached the infirmary I was ready to kill, and no mistake. I wasn't particularly picky about _who _to kill, but I was considering either Flitwick, with whom I had my first lesson today, or McGonagall, who'd made Wood captain and therefore responsible for team practices. 

I didn't even think about killing Wood, of course. One shouldn't kill the guy one happens to be head over heels in love with. It's not smart. Even if the guy one _happens _to be in love with is blind to any and all worldly things except Quidditch. 

As I entered the hospital wing, I realized that if Madam Pomfrey didn't have a cure for my headache, she'd be the perfect victim. My head seemed to be splitting, and it was doing so in an agonizingly slow fashion. I threaded my way through the beds. Most of them were empty.

I forced a smile at Wood as we passed and he returned it, if in a preoccupied sort of manner. I didn't stop to wonder what the hell he was doing in the hospital wing. My head hurt too much to worry about little things like that.

"My head – it hurts," I whimpered, clutching Madam Pomfrey's sleeve. Without a word, she handed me a sickly green liquid and I downed it. My head cleared at once.

"Ah," I said, returning the glass gratefully. "Thanks."

"You'd better get to class, Miss Bell," said Madam Pomfrey.

I nodded and meandered back around the beds and out through the door. I'd have to run to get to Charms on time – I was already running late. Now would not be a good time to get another detention. Although, detention with Flitwick was undoubtedly heaven next to detention with Snape. That was one thing I was not looking forward to, and unless I was very much mistaken, it was scheduled for tonight. What a wonderful day I was turning out to have.

I blame my rising frustration and my desire not to be late to Charms for what happened next. 

"Oi," grunted Wood as I ran headlong into him. I looked up. I come up to his shoulder, so, at close range, I had to look up quite a lot.

"Sorry," I said apologetically. He grinned down at me and I bit the inside of my lip. Breathe, Bell. Breathe. 

"Where're you off to in such a hurry, hey?" 

Damn that Scottish accent. Oh God. 

"Charms," I forced out between tightly gritted teeth. I will be strong. I will _not _melt. I will...

He adjusted his bag on his arm and I stared fiercely at his face. I am so not looking at your rippling muscles, Wood. I am absolutely not interested. He gave me an odd look.

"You okay, Bell?" he inquired. "You've been acting a bit... strange."

I'm cracking, I thought desperately. I'm finally cracking, that's why...

"I'm fine," was my brainy reply, and I started walking. I couldn't look at him anymore. He caught up and fell into step beside me. What, now he's stalking me? Not that I'd mind, but... well.

"I was going to say, what a coincidence," he said cheerfully. I threw away all hopes of outwalking him. Sometimes those long legs of his actually come in handy, and not just for my personal fantasies.

"What?" I said distractedly.

"That you're off to Charms, I mean," Wood elaborated. "I've got Transfiguration."

Same part of the school. Damn. He'd probably insist on tailing me the whole way there, then. This situation would have been so perfect in other circumstances – but not now, when that blasted headache had weakened my defenses and my resolve was crumbling out of sheer despair.

But I said, "Excellent." 

We engaged in idle smalltalk and I pretended not to notice the way the muscles in his arms moved when he shifted his bag, or the way his eyes lit up when he was talking about Quidditch. Or the way his hair curled softly at the nape of his neck and how long-fingered and exquisite his hands were.

Well. I did say I _pretended _not to notice.

Breathe, Bell, breathe.

Just breathe.

*

Review!!!

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	2. Everywhere

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Remind Me To Breathe

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By Christelle

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Author's Note: I'm afraid Mr. Wood doesn't appear in this chapter, mon amis. No, just kidding, he comes in near the end and is as beautiful as ever. But he's in Chapter Three almost constantly – I've already written it, but I'm too lazy to revise it at the moment. Anyway, be good and review and I'll try to get Chapter Three up as soon as possible. Capisce? 

Jamie: Thanks for your support! Katie's inner monologue continues in greater magnification in this chapter, so you'll have to let me know if it still clicks! Keep reading.

Demetre Ironhilt: Sorry about the long chapters. I'm really very bad about that. *hangs head* Thanks so much.

Emma: Yoohee. Sugar-high, dear? Me, too. It's the chocolate's fault. Thanks for your enthusiasm and I hope you enjoy this chapter…

Sara: Hey, can't say I haven't had a lot of practice in the crush area. I tend to go for unreachable guys, too – Let's see… Orlando Bloom, Sean Biggerstaff… yeah. I've got a problem. Yoohee!

Sarah H.: Why, thank you, darling girl. One question – do I _look _like the freaking porn channel to you? 

Midnight Dove: Thanks for your compliments – and here it is! Let me now what you think.

Robin: I agree wholeheartedly. I mean, how's it going to work? The Quidditch Cup is a huge 

part of Book Three, and they can't very well do it without Wood… I can't believe they'd actually cut out the Cup, but they might very well in lieu of elaborating more on the main plot of the book. But anyway, thanks for reviewing and do keep reading!

Sportzjunkie: Yoohee. Thanks a bunch! 

Disclaimer: Yesterday, when I was out walking, I came upon J.K. Rowling in a field. She was picking wildflowers. We got to chatting and she told me that if she ever found written evidence that I had stolen her characters, she would sue me to within an inch of my life. She's not sure she's quite rich enough, yet. She explained that British taxes are really quite soul-eating. I started talking about colonial America and frothing at the mouth and she shut up. The point is, none of these characters are mine, and nor is the song by Michelle Branch

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Chapter Two

"Everywhere"

'Cause you're everywhere to me

And when I catch my breath it's you I breathe

You're in everyone I see

So tell me –

Do you see me?

~Michelle Branch, "Everywhere"

I _was _a bit late to Charms, but Flitwick didn't notice. I slid into a seat Angelina and Alicia had saved for me and retrieved my book, trying to look as though I'd been there all the while. The class was a double block, with Ravenclaw. Thank God it wasn't with Slytherin. I wasn't looking forward to sitting through Double Charms, but I think I would have slit my wrists right in Flitwick's classroom had it been with Slytherin. Millicent Bulstrode was all I needed right now.

"Where were you?" hissed Alicia as soon as Flitwick's back was turned.

"Hospital wing," I said back.

"How's your head?" asked Angelina. A trifle too loudly, as it turned out.

"It's fine, Miss Johnson, why?" Flitwick said, turning around again.

"Just... politely curious?" tried Angelina hopefully, offering a smile.

"Oh," Flitwick said. "Well, thank you, Miss Johnson. Let's all turn to page 63, now."

Cheering Charms. Oh, good. Something that should come in handy, given my haunting impossible fantasies. I did my best to concentrate on the lesson, but it was hard to forget the way Wood looked at me, sometimes, as if... but of course, that was only when he was talking and thinking and breathing and living off of Quidditch. Even I couldn't bring myself to actually kid myself into believing it was something about _me _that made him act that way.

"Miss Bell?" 

Angelina elbowed me in the ribs. 

"Ow," I said, amid laughter from my classmates. I looked up. "I'm sorry, Professor?"

Damn.

"I said, can you tell me the important thing to remember when performing a Cheering Charm?" 

"Oh," I said, floundering. "Well – er – they're very... useful." 

"I suppose so," said Flitwick, frowning. "But the answer I was _looking _for, class, is that Cheering Charms are very easily overdone. Overdoing a Cheering Charm can have disastrous effects. Can anyone tell me what we must always remember about Giggling Gertrude?"

The class moved on, and I pushed all thoughts of Wood out of my head. 

Well... I pushed them into the back of my mind, at least. It's hard to get a guy like Wood out of your head completely, you know.

*

Charms came and went, albeit slowly. Angelina, Alicia and I trudged down to lunch. 

"I've got Arithmancy next," groaned Alicia, and Angelina and I smirked at each other.

"We've got Care of Magical Creatures," I said superciliously.

"So?" said Alicia sulkily.

"So we're gonna be outside in the boo-tee-full sun while you're whiling away the hour doing hard work," Angelina said, a smug grin on her face.

"Shut up."

We sat down at our usual seats and started shoveling food onto the golden plates. The Weasley twins sat down across from us.

"Hello, ladies," said George as he grabbed the bowl of mashed potatoes out of my hands.

"Think you've got enough to eat there, Spinnet?" asked Fred. Alicia glared daggers at him.

"No," she snapped, snatching the mashed potatoes from George. "I'm a growing girl. I need sustenance."

Angelina stared sadly at her plate. "Wish the house-elves could make Fizzing Whizbees," she said. "My sweet tooth is being deprived."

Fred bowed. "Your wish is my command, madam," he said, exchanging secretive looks with George. The twins' – call them connections – were legendary.

"Yep," agreed George. "Party, Gryffindor common room, tonight. Nothing fancy, no need to dress up."

Angelina, Alicia and I exchanged victorious glances. It was only as Angie and I were on our way to Care of Magical Creatures that I remembered about my detention with Snape. My face must have fallen, because Angelina said,

"What's wrong? I mean, I know Grubbly-Plank's not the hottest teacher on the block, but it's not Snape or anything."

"It _is _Snape," I said mournfully. "I've got detention with him tonight, remember?"

The expression on her face said quite plainly that she did.

"Ouch, Katie," she said sympathetically. "We'll tell Fred and George to have the party another night."

"No," I said. "It'll be okay. Save a butterbeer for me, okay?"

"Yeah," said Angelina. "_Bien sûr._"

I _hate _having a friend whose grandmother is French. Sometimes she says the strangest things. Through past experience with Angelina, however, I have discovered "bien sûr" to mean, in the much more sensible language of English, "of course". So I gave Angelina a milder glare than I usually do when she employs French in everyday conversation. She promptly ignored it, as per usual. 

In Care of Magical Creatures, we learned all about the occamy, a plumed two-legged winged creature with a serpentine body, and took copious notes. _The occamy is XXXX by Ministry of Magic classification, and is aggressive to all who approach it particularly in defense of its eggs, whose shells are made of the purest softest silver, _I wrote painstakingly, my mind anywhere but on occamies. 

I'd only had one other detention with Snape, in my first year. It had been an experience I hadn't been particularly keen to repeat, and I'd managed to hide myself from Snape's roving eyes -- until last week. 

Hey, no one can say I wasn't provoked, that's all. Angelina and Alicia were just as angry as I was; the only difference was that they remained in control of their tongues, while mine escaped from me for the first time in quite a while. Anyway, Snape's defilement of the Gryffindor Quidditch team was the last grievance in a long line that finally snapped my resolve.

It was soon after Christmas that Gryffindor pulled a stunning victory over Hufflepuff – right under Snape's nose. Literally. Harry caught the Snitch within inches of Snape's face. The following Monday, Angelina, Alicia and I weren't so naïve as to walk into Potions expecting nothing to be said about the match, but Snape went above and beyond the usual range of his derogatory comments. 

I must say, I was impressed when it took him nearly ten whole minutes to say anything at all about the match or the team or Gryffindor in general.

When he did, he motioned regally out of the high window at the gloomy gray skies and said, "I wonder if Gryffindor could win a match in _this _weather, or if, as I suspect, the light of the sun was a necessary aid for victory. I believe I am not alone in saying I should very much like to see them play amid a few clouds."

It should go without saying that the Slytherins, with whom we have Potions, agreed immediately. There were nods and smirks all around. The fact that five members of the Gryffindor team were present notwithstanding. 

Fred and George, of course, smiled and laughed with Slytherin. This freaked out the lot of them, since everyone is quite aware that the Weasley twins are on no account stupid. Later, the twins said, "We were just laughing. If they happened to _assume_ thatthe fact that we were laughing suggested they were all going to receive a shot of Filibusters' where the sun doesn't shine, that's their problem, isn't it?" 

That is, of course, the way Fred and George operate. I'm not quite as clever. I managed to bite my tongue then, but a few minutes later, the snake – oops, I meant Snape – struck again.

"I'm sorry, Professor, is that essence of murtlap on the board or essence of murflap?" asked a Gryffindor girl tremulously.

"Perhaps," snarled Snape, his lip curling, "you require Potter's glasses. They are obviously magical, since he was able to catch the Snitch at all."

This time I could see Angelina clench her jaw. The Weasleys staged a coughing fit in the hopes of irritating Snape.

"But he did," I said suddenly. I couldn't help it; it was too much – he was way out of line and no one was doing anything about it.

"I'm sorry, Bell?" said Snape. I don't think he could quite believe I was talking back to him.

"Harry caught the Snitch," I said, staring up at him belligerently. "He didn't need his glasses or the sun or anything else. That boy could catch the Snitch in a blizzard and I think you know it, Professor."

"Detention, Miss Bell," retorted Snape, smirking self-satisfiedly. He swept up to the front of the room and consulted his desk calendar. "Next week should do. In the evening. And in the future, Bell, keep your adulation of Potter outside of my classroom."

He could hardly believe his luck – he must have been high off the prospect of catching Katie Bell a hard one because he neglected to keep us after the bell and instead dismissed us promptly.

Which left me precisely where I was now. I sighed and slung my bag over my shoulder as the bell rang from the castle. Care of Magical Creatures – mission accomplished. Next assignment – Transfiguration. 

*

Transfiguration passed without much incident. I managed to keep my head, unlike in Charms and Care of Magical Creatures. Although I think Professor McGonagall did give me a few odd looks, but I waved these away as oddities that need not be duly thought over.

"Homework," said Professor McGonagall as the bell rang. She stared sternly as we all groaned. "A foot on Animagi, due Wednesday. Class dismissed."

Angelina, Alicia, Fred, George and I started packing up our books. "Bell," called McGonagall. I looked up. "See me when you are finished." 

The others looked inquiringly at me, but I shrugged. I slipped _Intermediate Transfiguration _back amongst its fellows and picked up my bag, waving goodbye to Angelina, Alicia and the twins as I traipsed up to the front of the room. 

Professor McGonagall shuffled some papers on her desk before she met my eyes. When she did, she leaned back in her chair and folded her hands on her desk. 

"Are you all right, Miss Bell?" she asked. Her voice was uncharacteristically gentle and my brow furrowed. She couldn't _know. _ Not about Wood.

"All right?" I repeated stupidly. "Er – yes. Yes, of course."

"You seem rather preoccupied," elaborated McGonagall, fixing me with her trademark steely gaze. "I wondered if something was bothering you. You seem to be only semi-aware of what you are supposed to be learning."

Oh. And I thought I'd done rather well that class. I blamed McGonagall wholeheartedly for being too observant for her own damn good. "I'm fine," I reiterated, trying to incorporate some firmness into my voice. "There's nothing wrong."

"I see," said McGonagall. "Well, if you change your mind, Bell... you'd better run along. You'll be late for class."

I nodded, smiled, and walked out the door. What did she mean, _if I change my mind? _ Change my mind? Change my mind about what? About being fine? Because I am. Fine, that is. There is _nothing _wrong with me. I have no issues. I am a carefree, laid-back teenaged girl and nothing could possibly improve my life because there is simply nothing in my life that requires to be improved.

Except the rather large file marked "Oliver Wood".

Okay, am I kidding anyone except myself?

*

I didn't bother maintaining my façade in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Quirrell was too busy stuttering out the w-ways to r-r-repel v-vampires to worry overly about what his class was doing. I almost fell asleep several times, but Fred and George, kind souls that they are, poked me in the back repeatedly with the butts of their contraband. Fireworks and Dungbombs, of course. Not wanting to think about what would happen if they accidentally (or purposefully) poked too hard with a Dungbomb, I forced myself to stay awake, focusing fuzzily on Quirrell and his purple turban. 

When the bell rang, I shot out of my chair as if my butt was on fire and scooped my books into my bag. I wanted to get that Transfiguration homework done before dinner so that I wouldn't have to do it over the weekend, because God knows Wood would have us up as soon as the sun rose. (A/N: Wood would. Get it? Yoohee. I'm high.)

I dashed out of the room, Angelina, Alicia, Fred and George close on my heels.

"Why're we going so fast?" asked Angelina, panting.

"Because we've got that homework for Transfiguration," explained Alicia as we raced along.

"Yeah, 'cause no doubt Wood'll have us all – Katie, watch out--!" Fred said, but the warning came too late.

"Oi," said Wood for the second time that day. I extricated myself from his person.

"Sorry, Oliver," I said again. This was getting repetitive. 

"Quite all right," said Wood, trying to get his breath back. He turned to Fred and fixed him with an inquisitive glare. "No doubt I'll have you all...?"

"...up at the crack of dawn," said Fred.

"Playing Quidditch," added George. 

Wood pounced on this opportunity. "Exactly!" he shouted, attracting stares from the rest of the corridor. "We must train, team! That Cup is _ours, _I tell you, _ours!_"

Fred rolled his eyes. "We'd better go before he starts frothing at the mouth," George said. 

"See you at dinner, Oliver," called Fred as we mounted the stairs to the common room two at a time. 

"No, you won't," Wood called back. "I've got detention and loads of homework."

George swore. "That makes two of you," he said. Then he shrugged. "Ah, well, we'll save you both a butterbeer."

"Maybe," corrected Fred.

"If we feel like it," said George.

"If, you know, no one really wants them anyway—"

"Oh, shut up, the both of you," I said crossly. Then, trying to be as insouciant as possible, I said, "Wonder why Oliver's got detention."

"Probably," began Angelina, "he started making diagrams of the Wronski Feint while he was supposed to be taking notes, or something."

Alicia stared at the ceiling speculatively. "Yep," she said. "I can see McGonagall or somebody giving him detention for that." She turned to the Fat Lady. "Boggart breath," she intoned, and the Fat Lady swung open.

I almost knocked over a first-year in my mad dash to an unoccupied table, but I didn't even stop to say sorry. Fred and George winked and disappeared, presumably to gather supplies from Hogsmeade via the one-eyed witch's hump. Angelina and Alicia went upstairs to our dorm.

I pulled out my Transfiguration book and a new roll of parchment, and then began a crazy search for a quill. I was just about to upend my bag when something tickled my nose. I sneezed. Someone laughed. I looked up. My quill was directly in front of my nose, and my tickler was the Incredibly Charming Mr. Wood. 

"Looking for this?" he said, his eyes dancing with mirth. I snatched the quill.

"Thanks," I said, and I started scribbling a mile a minute, copying down everything I'd ever learned about Animagi whether it was relevant or not. Wood collapsed into a chair and splayed his hands on the table. I was, of course, immersed in my work and therefore didn't notice that his fingertips were going white with the pressure he was exerting on the table. Of course.

I paused when I'd gotten about six inches down to flex my hand, which was quickly cramping, and to tuck my hair behind my ear. I'm going back to ponytails, I swear. This clip does not work. 

I picked up my quill and glanced up to find Wood looking at me intently. His eyes flicked down to my half-finished essay and he said, "Transfiguration?" I nodded and he gave me a soulful look. "Me too," he said. He sighed, reached for his books, and started writing languidly.

*

I emitted a crow of triumph two hours later and threw down my quill. Wood glared at me. The common room looked very large with only the two of us sitting hunched over our books; everybody else had already gone down to dinner.

"Don't tell me you're done," he said mournfully. "I've still got two feet for Binns and a half a foot left for McGonagall."

"Have fun, Oliver," I sang, and I made my way to the portrait hole.

"Ach," he said, stretching. "Well, have fun, Bell. See you tomorrow at practice – six o'clock, bright and early, tell the others."

"Six o'clock," I groaned. "Got it." 

I climbed out of the portrait hole headfirst and nearly fell down the stairs. What can I say -- I'm naturally clumsy, and it doesn't help when the staircases _try _to trip me.


	3. Wrong Impression

****

Remind Me To Breathe

__

By Christelle

****

Legal Disclaimer: Last night I had a dream in which I was J.K. Rowling and had millions of dollars. Or pounds, whichever way you look at it. Britain's nice, but I'd have to come live back here in the USA in order to provide moral and financial support for my country. I can be _very _patriotic. Anyway, back to my dream – I was J.K. and for fun, resorted to hunting down fanfiction writers who failed to disclaim my characters. I was not one of the people I persecuted. In other words, I don't own anything.

Author's Note: At last, at long last! Yoohee. Things get more exciting this chapter... And there's a brief insight into Wood's character. Special thanks to sportzjunkie and Sparkles; you guys were my only two reviewers last chapter, so thanks. And now, without further ado – on with the fic!

Chapter Three

"Wrong Impression"

Calling out, calling out, haven't you wondered

Why I'm always alone when you're in my dreams

Calling out, calling out, haven't you wondered

Why you're finding it hard just looking at me.

~Natalie Imbruglia, "Wrong Impression"

A feeling of dread had been growing steadily in the pit of my stomach all through dinner as my fate drew ever nearer. By the end of the meal, I had a stomachache armed to the teeth.

"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing before you go to detention," Alicia suggested as we climbed the stairs. 

"No," I moaned. "Snape'll kill me if I'm a split second late."

But the pain was so intense that I decided it was worth the risk, and when I appeared at her door for the second time that day, Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue and patted me on the head, which I hate.

"You really need to cut back on the stress, Miss Bell," she said sympathetically and she made me take a greenish blue liquid. I don't know what it was, but it tasted, quite frankly, like shit. 

My horribly imaginative mind came up with hundreds of torture mechanisms Snape was bound to use on me as I raced out of the infirmary. Finally, I was outside the Potions classroom. The door was closed. Bad sign, very bad sign. There was nothing for it. I straightened my shirt, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

"So glad you decided to join us, Miss Bell," came Snape's supercilious voice. 

I hadn't known this was going to be a group detention, but I should have known. He'd been looking for chances to pick people off in class for weeks. I wasn't surprised not to see any Slytherins. There did seem to be rather a lot of Gryffindors, though.

There also seemed to be a certain Gryffindor Quidditch team captain present. 

Oh, God. Wood grinned companionably at me. 

"Now that Miss Bell has finally decided to make an appearance, we are ready to begin. This detention will take place on the grounds."

Snape swept out of the room and the mulish crowd of assorted Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs followed him. Wood caught up with me. 

"Didn't expect to see _you _here, Bell," he said. "And what did you do to make the Prick angry?"

"He insulted the team," I said stiffly. "I couldn't help it."

"What a coincidence," said Wood conversationally. "Same here. What'd he say to you?"

"Oh," I said, trying to gauge his reaction, "he said something about how we couldn't play in bad weather."

It was a good thing that we were outside by that time, because Wood swore so loudly that I felt sure half the school would have heard him. Luckily the ground and the trees swallowed the sound pretty effectively, but several people turned around to look at us anyhow. 

"We can play in bad weather!" Wood said, outraged. 

"I know," I said matter-of-factly. I didn't succeed in stopping his tirade.

"That is the most outrageous—" Wood began, and then he cut off abruptly, his jaw clenched. 

"What was that, Mr. Wood?" Snape asked silkily, gliding along behind us almost like a dementor. 

"Nothing," Wood said brusquely, and Snape smirked at us and swept on ahead. 

I didn't ask Wood what had been said about the team that had led to _his_ ending up in detention, for fear of inflaming him. Wood was busy glaring furiously at Snape's retreating back. He was so intent on the object of his rage that he didn't immediately notice when Snape stopped at the lake's edge and almost ran into the Potions master. I snatched his sleeve to stop him.

"Oh," Wood said, realizing his peril. "Thanks," he added. I let his arm go reluctantly; his muscles were very nice. I did not just think that. I did _not _just think that. Breathe, Bell, breathe.

I turned my attention to Snape, who was speaking. 

"You will be collecting blood from the giant squid," said Snape, smirking at the lot of us. 

So that was what he was so pleased about. What a pleasant detention. So tell me, Professor Snape, does the giant squid bite? Or sting? And are we supposed to dive into the water in the freezing weather and stick syringes into the squid, or will the squid come to _us _to have its blood removed?

I hadn't asked the questions aloud, but Snape answered the last one at once. He waved his wand, muttering something under his breath as he did so. 

I waited, my breath on hold, but after a few minutes I let it out. If I'd held it any longer I would have fainted, and what a properly ladylike thing to do, especially in the presence of Oliver Wood. He'd probably have shouted obscenities at Snape for bringing bodily harm unto me and then carried me in his arms up to the castle, laying me down in my bed and resting his cool hand on my fevered brow. 

No, wait, that's just my deepest darkest fantasy.

Well...

Maybe not _the _deepest, darkest. I have quite a few, you know.

But it is accurate to say that we waited in silence for at least five minutes before anything interesting happened at all.

And when it did, several of the more irritating girls screamed and retreated hastily, making sure their chests bounced as they did so. Sluts. 

The surface of the lake rippled again, and then once more, more violently this time. Then a huge tentacle flopped onto the banks and a second year called Cho Chang shrieked like a banshee and leapt back. 

The giant squid's great head bobbed gently in the icy water.

"Well?" barked Snape. "What are you waiting for? Divide into pairs and take a syringe and a bottle!"

I tensed, but Wood didn't seem to be going anywhere. "Shall we?" he inquired delicately, offering his arm in a posh impression of a gentleman. 

"I thank you, kind sir," I said, turning my nose up haughtily as I laid my hand on his arm, and we walked to Snape. He narrowed his eyes at the two of us as we sniffed snottily at a pair of first years. We were obviously having far too much fun for his liking, but he thrust a bottle and a nasty-looking syringe at us and turned away.

The work was grimy and I didn't like it any more than anyone else did, but at least I wasn't jumping around and saying, "Eeeeewww" like the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs beside us. 

"Three pairs to a tentacle, now, hurry it up," Snape said, sweeping along behind us as we worked. The squid didn't seem to mind having its limbs punched with large needles – I suppose the syringes were far too tiny for it to care at all. 

I wiped my forehead with my hand and glanced up at the castle. Most of the lights were already out. I wondered how late it was. 

It seemed like hours later that Snape finally said, "Screw the tops on the bottles as tightly as you can and wipe off the syringes. Bring them to me."

"I'll give him 'tight'," growled Wood, tightening his hold on the jar. I gave a weak chuckle for his pains and immersed the syringe in the water. 

We trudged back to the castle and I thought longingly of my nice, warm bed. Only... seventeen hundred and fifty-three more paces to go. 

And that was my last conscious thought before my body, wearied by an unbelievably long day, collapsed. I felt Wood catch me as I fell.

*

It's strange how ironic life can be sometimes. 

I woke up to harsh sunlight on my face. Angelina was sitting on the edge of my bed. She grinned when she saw me awake. I sat up. 

"What the hell?" I said groggily, rubbing my eyes. 

"Tired, Kate?" inquired Angelina deviously.

"Yeah, why – wait," I said, as memories of the previous night flooded my poor overworked brain. "Last night – what happened?"

"You fainted," Angelina said. "At least, that's what Oliver said. The party was just starting to die down, too. It was past midnight, I expect. So Oliver carried you up here and put you in bed."

I gasped. Oh, God. "He didn't!" I said.

"Well, no," agreed Angelina. I glared at her. "Alicia and I did that. But he did carry you up to the common room. I'm sure he _would _have put you in bed if we weren't here to do it for him."

She grinned again and leapt off the foot of my bed. She threw the covers off, exposing me to the absolutely frigid air, so I shrieked and threw my pillow at her. She dodged it, of course, still laughing.

"Get up, you slugabed," she said. "I've had my shower and Alicia's having hers now. Hurry up and we'll catch breakfast before Quidditch. We have you to thank for that, actually – Oliver's moved it to ten o'clock when he saw how tired you were."

So I got up and waited impatiently while Alicia finished her shower, and then I had mine. When I'd finished, I dressed and we went into the common room, where Fred and George were just coming down the boys' staircase, looking artfully disheveled and yawning. 

We sat down in five unoccupied seats at the Gryffindor table. Wood grinned at me and I jumped, not having realized he was sitting next to me. 

"Tired, Bell?" he asked. I reached hungrily for the croissants.

"Yep," I said, grinning back. "How frightfully embarrassing. Thanks for playing the knight in shining armor, by the way."

Oh, my God. I really must be tired, to let myself speak my mind like that. I busied myself with buttering my roll.

"You're very welcome," Wood said. His voice sounded strange, but I didn't question it. It was probably just me.

I didn't want to look at Wood for fear of saying something stupid again, so I looked down the table the other way. Harry was sitting with his friend Hermione Granger. I wondered vaguely where the twins' younger brother was, but then I remembered George saying he was in the hospital wing with a supposed dog bite. 

"Just think," Harry was saying in an undertone to Hermione, "tonight's the night. Those friends of Charlie's will take that _thing _away and we won't have to worry about it anymore."

He glanced up and caught me looking at him, so I smiled cheerily and said, "Ten o'clock, Harry. Duty calls."

And we all rose from our seats and made our way out to the pitch without even having to be told by Wood. 

****

***(Wood's POV)***

My thoughts were anything but cheerful as I strode down to the Quidditch pitch. Bell obviously regards me as some sort of joke, the way she carries on. Knight in shining armor, indeed... It's hard on a bloke, I'll have you know. All this ridiculous hiding of emotions and game playing – it's driving me mad. Absolutely raving mad. 

But the golden hoops and the fresh new spring grass beckoned and I kicked off with a vengeance from the ground, immersing myself and any feelings I might happen to harbor for one Katie Bell in the wonderful game of Quidditch. I let off a little steam by shouting at the Weasley twins to get moving. 

I didn't have any new moves I particularly wanted to introduce at the start of the practice, so Fred and George let a Bludger out and chased it from earth to sky, Potter let out the Snitch and caught it (repeatedly), and the Chasers did their damnedest to get past me. They succeeded quite a few times, too. I blame Bell wholeheartedly for serving as a distraction. 

We'd been flying for half an hour when I called break. Johnson and Spinnet shot me grateful looks, but Bell didn't spare me a glance. She'd been acting odd since the beginning of breakfast and I was getting rather tired of it. My brow furrowed angrily as I took a drag out of the water bottle. 

My vision was limited to the sky as I drank, and it was thus out of the corner of my eye that I saw the Bludger whiz gleefully towards the unsuspecting Bell. The Weasleys hadn't bothered to put it away during break. 

I shouted and dropped the water bottle. The team looked up at me, startled. There wasn't time to do anything else; I launched myself at Bell and threw her flat, and the Bludger shot through the empty air where her head had been seconds before. 

And now I had Bell in a very compromising position indeed. Her eyes were wide and she was looking not at me, but rather furiously, and righteously so, at Fred and George. Who, for once, looked slightly abashed. I had to settle for the fact that her hands were on my chest and she was shaking. Whether with shock, fear, or fury, I couldn't say. 

She glared at the twins for a second longer, and then at me. Looked, that is, not glared. 

"Thanks," she said, rather breathlessly. 

"You're very welcome," I answered. Things were becoming rather repetitive. 

She hadn't moved and neither did I. While the moments lengthened, someone coughed demurely from above. I think it was Spinnet. I rolled off Bell and picked myself up, looking with distaste at the cut on my arm from the fall. Madam Pomfrey would be able to heal it in a pinch but I glared at Fred and George for good measure. Then, since no one seemed to be inclined to, I held out a hand for Bell and she grasped it, nearly pulling me down as she got to her feet. 

"Thanks," she said again. 

"As always," I said, grinning lightly, "you're so _very _welcome. Let's go, team!"

And I shot off into the sky, not waiting for them to follow. I took it on faith that they did.

"All right," I said, when we were all in the air. "This only concerns the Chasers, so you three, shove off." 

Fred, George, and Harry flew away, shooting baleful glares in my direction, but I was too exhausted from the encounter with Bell to care. I told you, it takes it out of a bloke. 

"This is called the Hawkshead Attacking Formation," I said, pausing in the hopes that one of them would recognize it. I sighed.

"And?" said Johnson impatiently.

"Right," I said wearily. They could at least read _Quidditch Through the Ages. _I know for a fact that Johnson and Bell have both checked it out at one point or another. "Here's the deal – it's relatively simple, but you'll have to be very aware of where your fellow Chasers are. The idea is to fly toward the hoops in a spearhead formation. Usually, the leader carries the Quaffle, at least at first. Shall we try it?"

"Okay," said Johnson at once. 

"I'm not gonna be at the front," said Spinnet.

"Neither am I," retorted Johnson. She turned to Bell and grinned devilishly. "You'll have to do it, Katie."

"Fine," said Bell crossly, and she caught the Quaffle from Spinnet and flew a few feet ahead of the other girls. Spinnet and Johnson fell into formation at her sides. 

I slipped an arm around Bell to adjust her hold on the Quaffle and I heard her breath catch.

"So," I said, placing Bell's hands directly on either side of the red ball. I tried to ignore the signals shooting through me. "You can – pass, to Johnson and Spinnet, but it should be you who does the actual scoring. This is an intimidating move – you probably won't meet much resistance. All the same, if you need to, pass. Just be waiting for the follow-up pass when you near the goalposts. All set?"

"Yes."

I let my arm slip away and I flew to the hoops at the end of the field. Once in position, I waved to signal my readiness and the trio flew towards me, shakily at first, occasionally breaking the formation, but gathering steadiness.

Bell caught my eye as she sped toward the hoops. There was an extremely odd element to her expression, but I couldn't quite figure out what it was. With an effort I wrenched my gaze from hers and weaved calculatedly in front of the goalposts. 

She threw, but her timing was off and I caught the ball before it had even entered range. 

"Pay attention, Bell," I muttered as I tossed it back to her. 

"Sorry," she said apologetically. She grinned cheekily at me and my heart thudded. 

"Again," I said, keeping my voice steady with an effort. "Change positions."

And now Johnson was in the lead, Bell to her right and Spinnet to her left. This was a problem, since my attention should have been focused on Johnson and was instead focused on Bell. The Quaffle skittered past my stretching fingertips and soared through the right goalpost. 

"Good," I said. Again, I locked gazes with Bell. I was jerked roughly back to present as the Weasley twins beat the Bludger toward me. 

"Oliver," said Fred triumphantly, "it's time for lunch."

"Yes," proclaimed George. "We must go fill our rumbling stomachs or we shall die of hunger, O Captain."

"Right," I said, running a hand through my hair distractedly. "Lunch. Right."

"Does this mean we have to come back out after lunch?" said Johnson, suspicious of my sudden surrender.

"No," I said, setting a leisurely pace back to the locker rooms. "No, I don't think so."

"After dinner?" asked Spinnet, her eyebrow raised. 

"I can't," said Potter quickly. "Not after dinner. I'm – I'm busy."

"There you have it," I said, still not bothering to mask the distraction in my voice. "Can't have Quidditch practice without a Seeker."

Johnson shot me a funny look, but I didn't respond. Fred and George changed from their scarlet robes in seconds, closely followed by Spinnet and Johnson. Bell was just closing her locker when I came around the corner. 

The silence was becoming awkward and I could tell she didn't really want to look at me, but I was standing between her and the door, so she glanced up. 

"I'm going to lunch," she said lightly, walking towards me. Or, rather, walking towards the door and passing me on the way. "Coming?"

The plan was nearly perfect, but she hadn't taken into account her own adorable clumsiness. She tripped over a bench and would have sprawled flat on her face if I hadn't grabbed her around the waist. 

It would have been better to let her fall. The silence stretched to unbearable lengths. What can I say? A Keeper's reflexes die hard. I was still holding her when she craned her head to look at me. It's not that I'm tall – it's just that she's short. 

"Thanks," she said.

"You're _so _very welcome."

And then, at last, at long last, I gave in to my screaming, pleading thoughts and leaned forward. 

It's strange how someone like Katie Bell can render me in _seconds_ more breathless than an hour of Quidditch training. It's very strange indeed. 


	4. Irresistible

****

Remind Me To Breathe

__

By Christelle

****

Legal Disclaimer: Have you ever noticed how purple the sky is? No? Pity, that means I'm not J.K. Rowling. Pigs might fly. Or, in my case, one rather small pig who is actually a cockatiel but is nevertheless a metaphorical pig might fly, but she probably won't, because, aside from being a pig, she is also irrefragably lazy.

****

Author's Note: Okay, here it is at last—thanks everybody for the wonderful reviews! Keep 'em coming, they make my day. This chapter is a bit shorter than the rest, so it should be easier to read. It jumps to Angelina's point of view somewhere in the middle. Also, this chapter is dedicated to a superb friend of mine—loff you, Renee—who's going to the smart people school and whose band is going to totally get their a** kicked by me 'n' my band 'cause you're COMING TO SHOWCASE OF BANDS!!! YES!!! Or so I'm informed. On with the chapter! Enjoy.

Chapter Four

"Irresistible"

Irresistible – natural, physical

It's indefinable – magical, illogical

So make-you-mineable

You're mine

~The Corrs, "Irresistible"

My head spun crazily and I staggered, my knees weakening. Wood obviously interpreted this as some sort of signal that I wasn't enjoying the kiss, because he broke away and caught my arm to stop me from sudden death by falling. 

His face was flushed and he wasn't meeting my eyes, but he was still holding my arm. 

"Whoa," I said, thereby earning my well-deserved place on the list of Top Ten Stupidest Things to Say After Being Kissed by Your Crush. I tried to amend it but didn't get very far. "I mean – whoa."

"Sorry," muttered Wood, moving to walk away, but I stopped him with a well-placed hand to the chest. My temper flared.

"Sorry?" I screeched, echoes reverberating around the room. _Sorry – Sorry – Sorry?_ "_Sorry?"_

He looked blankly at me so I elaborated. "That is just like a guy!" I said, glaring at him. He looked at me with hurt and confusion written all over his face. Hurriedly, I dropped my hand from his chest. "No!" I said. "It's not going to work this time, Oliver! I'm not going to melt, no matter how many puppy-dog eyes you send my way! I _refuse_ to melt! Are you hearing me?"

"Melt?" repeated Wood, staring at me as if I'd gone mad. Probably I had.

"Yes, Oliver, melt. I mean, my God, this is classic! Kiss a girl, apologize, and walk away, is that it? You can't just leave her hanging like that! There are questions that need to be answered!"

"Questions," said Wood. Maybe I _was _going a little too fast. I rattled off a few examples, ticking them off on my fingers.

"Yes! Like – what's the deal now? Where are we, where are we going – What the hell did that little session back there mean?"

"Mean? I don't know," said Wood. I jabbed a finger triumphantly at him.

"See? See? You're clamming up! You're afraid to talk about your feelings! How long have you felt that way, Oliver?" 

I'd meant about being afraid to discuss his feelings, but he took it in a different direction altogether.

"I've felt this way for a long time," he said. His eyes were warm, inviting... I floundered desperately.

"Trite _and _unoriginal," I accused, trying my best to remain haughty and indifferent. "Very cliché, my boy."

"I meant it," said Wood, his brow creasing with irritation. I itched to smooth it out. 

"Oh, right," I said, scoffing. "Just like you meant the kiss – don't tell me."

"Yes, actually," said Wood. His voice was deeper than usual and more than a bit ruffled. When I looked up at him, his gaze was so intense that I fell back a step. 

My furious inspiration had officiouly expired. 

"Oh," I said weakly, feeling silly. "In that case..."

He sat down on the bench and I sat down next to him, exhausted. We sat in silence for a while before he said, his tone light, "Well, Bell, it would have been worth a try, but I'm not sure I want a girlfriend who's quite so blind."

I stared at him incredulously. "You're one to talk!" I said.

He grinned at me. "Well, don't _we _make a fine pair," he said. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and I settled into his embrace.

"I'm hungry," I said suddenly. He spluttered and I continued, "No, I'm hungry. I want to go to lunch."

And so we did.

*

It felt odd.

Very odd.

I mean, I'd dated guys before; it's kind of a been there done that deal. But this thing with Wood was different. It was...

Odd. 

We'd walked into lunch and sat down, Wood on my right and Angelina on my left. Fred and George were sitting across from me and Alicia was next to Fred and we didn't have to say anything.

Angelina's secret little smile was the only thing that hinted at something different. Alicia grinned openly at me. 

And we had this normal lunch, but everybody knew it wasn't really a normal lunch, because it was impossible but I had a sneaking suspicion that everyone already knew about... us. 

Everyone was acting as if Wood and I were an item. Which is to say, we were, but we hadn't _told _them, so how could they know?

It was odd. 

If I'd had psychic powers—or at least have taken Divination—I might have known.

While it seemed like hours passed when Wood and I were in the changing rooms, only a few minutes really had...

****

***Angelina's POV***

Fred and George are notorious for possessing lightning speed when it behooves them to use it, and they certainly demonstrated as such as soon as Wood let us out for lunch. He'd been acting strange, but of course—Katie is definitely starting to affect him. 

We all felt it. There was totally chemistry out there. 

Fred and George changed and left in a manner of seconds.

"It's fine, we'll just catch up," I called after them sarcastically as they almost ran out. Alicia rolled her eyes companionably at me. Katie was preoccupied—but of course. 

"Come on, Kate," said Alicia impatiently. I could have killed her.

"Sorry," said Katie.

"Don't worry about it," I said hastily. "We'll see you at lunch, okay?"

She nodded and I dragged Alicia out. 

"What was that all about?" she demanded. "She's almost done—God, you must be really hungry or something—or is it just PMS?"

"Shut up!" I said furiously.

"Ah. PMS, then."

"No," I snapped. "Listen, are you crazy? They totally have to have their moment! I think they're finally going to do it!"

"What, sex?" said Alicia, her eyebrows high. "I didn't even know they were dating!"

"Leesh, you are the most irrefragably idiotic person I know!" I hissed at her. "They're not going to do _it. _They're going to have their moment. They're going to _kiss._"

"Ange, you read too many romance novels," said Alicia, flapping a hand at me. "God, they're not going to... do you really think so?"

"Of course. And then Kate'll get all defensive—you know how she is—and Oliver'll be all unconvincing and it'll be horrible."

"What?" Lish looked crushed. "Oh, my God."

"But it'll all turn out all right. They'll talk it out. And then they'll come into lunch together and they _won't say a word about it. _This is important, Lish."

"Why?"

"Because _you musn't say a word about it._"

"Why?" Alicia was looking at me oddly.

"Because _they musn't know we know."_

"Oh, that," said Lish sarcastically. "I was forgetting."

"No, seriously, they can't know we know. Because then they'll be all, no, there's nothing going on, but if we leave it alone they'll tell us in their own good time. Got it?"

"You couldn't wind me more if you gutted me with the Quaffle, Ange," said Lish. "But okay."

"Good." 

By the time we caught up with the twins, they were already deep in their lunch and only glanced up as we sat down. And when Katie and Wood came in and sat down next to me, Fred started talking conveniently about the next Hogsmeade trip. Kate looked at Oliver. Oliver looked at Kate. 

Alicia and I exchanged triumphant glances. The game was on.


	5. Building a Mystery

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Remind Me To Breathe

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By Christelle

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Legal Disclaimer: Life is good, but I'm still not J.K. Rowling. Go figure; some people have all the luck.

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Author's Note: Oooh! Oooh! This chapter is dedicated to my loffly friend, NITA, a.k.a. Averna!! She's written some beautiful Kel/Dom (*cheer*) fics in the Tamora Pierce section so check 'em out. And—er—this chapter was supposed to be her Christmas present... oooh! I know. I'm one of those people who celebrate Christmas really late in the year, because then they can take advantage of all the after-Christmas sales to buy gifts for people. Much love and hugs, Nita! Many thanks to all who reviewed!

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Author's Note B: Aha! Dad finally fixed the HTML converter on MS Word. I lost it when I had to reinstall my operating system... ::blush:: Enjoy!

Chapter Five 

"Building a Mystery"

You're so beautiful

With an edge and charm

And so careful when I'm 

In your arms.

~Sarah McLachlan, "Building a Mystery"

The sun. 

It is a gift and a curse. Woken by its luster, an optimist would have been grateful and remembered its essentiality to life. 

But I'm not an optimist. At least, not in the morning. So I cursed its name and the imbecile who'd opened the curtains this early. I rolled over, slammed a pillow over my eyes, and tried to get back to sleep.

"Katie, wake up."

Someone pried my fingers off of the pillow and removed it. I moaned piteously and opened my eyes, but only to glare at the pillow-stealer, who happened to be Alicia.

"You," I growled. "You, you... waker-upper! On a Sunday!"

She sat down on the edge of my bed and set the pillow in her lap. "Can't help it," she said. "It's not _my _fault."

Angelina waltzed out of the bathroom, toweling her hair dry. "That's right," she said. "Blame Oliver."

I nearly jumped, then chided myself. How paranoid _was _I? They couldn't know. 

"Why?" I said, to cover for my shock. "Have we got practice?"

"When don't we?" Angelina said, just as the door banged open and the Weasley twins swaggered in.

"What are_ you _guys doing up here?" asked Alicia incredulously. "Guys aren't allowed!"

"The staircase!" said Ange, indignant. "How'd you get past that?"

"Ah, but that would be telling," said George.

"Trade secrets, ladies," said Fred. "What? What's this? Miss Bell, still abed?"

"Time to get up!" George yelled merrily, waving a Dungbomb threateningly under my nose. Feeling that this was the best incentive in the history of incentives, I leapt up, glared at everyone present, and stalked into the bathroom. 

After a five-minute shower, I dressed and used a spell to dry my hair. Then I opened the door. Steam billowed out. 

"My God," said Lish. "It must have been like a _sauna _in there."

"What's a sauna?" asked Fred.

"It's a really, really hot place," said Alicia wearily.

I ignored them and went to find an elastic for my hair. There was a knock on the door, and glancing at the Weasleys, Ange called out, "Who is it?"

The door opened without an answer and Wood stalked in, fully clad in Quidditch robes and carrying his broomstick.

"Oh, _damn_," said Alicia. "Are we late?"

"No," said Wood shortly, closing the door. "Have you been downstairs at all this morning?"

"No," said George. "Fred and I spent the night."

"Shut up, Weasley," said Angelina. "Fred and George must have gone through the common room. Katie and Lish and I have been upstairs all morning."

"Actually, we haven't," said Fred. "Shall we tell them, Forge?"

"I thought I was Gred!" said George. 

"Oh, are you? I thought _I _was Gred," said Fred. "Well, shall we tell them, Gred?"

"I think I like Forge better," said George. "You can be Gred."

"I'm going to slap both of you if we don't get some answers in the next thirty seconds," said Ange calmly.

"Hmm," said George, "I think we'd better tell them, Gred."

"You're right. Oliver probably knows, anyhow," said Fred. "How else would _he _have gotten up here?"

"We flew, ladies," said George, turning to the rest of us. "There's an open window on the dormitory landing."

"So no one's been downstairs," Wood said. He sat down heavily on Alicia's bed.

"What's so interesting downstairs?" I asked, finally locating a hair tie and pulling my hair back.

"The hourglasses," said Wood hollowly. 

"What about them?" 

"We're down a hundred and fifty points."

I blinked. 

"What?" said Ange. "How can... I don't—"

"I've been to see McGonagall," Wood continued. "I thought it was a mistake. But it's not."

"Wait," said Fred, shaking his head. "Who lost a _hundred _and _fifty points?_"

"Harry. And some other first-years."

"_Harry?_"

"They were out after curfew, according to McGonagall. She's still furious."

It felt as if someone had died. We sat in silence for a while, slumped and dejected, and more than a little resentful. 

*

I half-expected Wood to cancel Quidditch practice that day, but he didn't. 

"Points are points," he said matter-of-factly as we all trooped out to the locker rooms. "But Quidditch is _Quidditch."_

"Really?" said Fred.

"I always thought Quidditch was unicorn snot, myself," said George.

"Me, too," said Fred.

Sometimes Fred and George are difficult to understand.

We sort of ignored Harry all through practice. Wood silently handed him the Snitch once we were out on the field, but the interaction stopped there. I was irritated with him, just as the others were, but twinges of sympathy kept disrupting my annoyance. He was just a kid, after all. 

But I didn't say anything to him or anyone else about it, and when Wood finally called quits I flew back to the changing rooms with Angelina and Alicia without a backward glance. 

"I want to get that Charms homework done before lunch," said Alicia. I could tell she was trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Who's with me?"

"I am," I said. "Come on, Ange. It won't take that long."

"Oh, all right," grumbled Angelina, slamming her locker door. 

"Shall we drag the twins along?" I asked as we sat down on benches to wait for the others.

"They'll be _distracting,_" said Alicia, sighing.

"Exactly," Angelina said happily. "Fred! George!"

The Weasleys sauntered out of the shower room, their hair still tousled from the shower. 

"Yes?" said George.

"How may we be of service, ladies?" said Fred.

"We're going up to the common room to do our Charms homework before lunch, and you're coming," said Ange.

"Oh," said Fred.

"Right, then," said George. "But we mustn't leave without saying goodbye to Oliver."

Once again, I had a twinge of apprehension, but again I slapped it down again. Thinking that everyone had read the latest issue of _Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About Oliver Wood and Katie Bell _was merely a side-effect of my overly-suspicious mind.

So we milled over to the shower room, having heard the squeak of a shower being turned off. Rounding the corner, we came upon Wood, insufficiently clad with a towel wrapped around his waist. Harry was standing across from him. From the look on Wood's face, Harry'd just said something as utterly preposterous as, "I think they should replace Dumbledore with Quirrell, don't you?"

"_Resign?_" Wood thundered, water dripping off of the ends of his hair. "What good'll that do? How are we supposed to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?"

Harry looked so unhappy that for a moment I forgot about the points. I opened my mouth to say something in his defense, but then I remembered, and I shut it again.

Wood shook his head and went back into the shower. Without looking at us, Harry slunk out of the shower room like a dog with his tail between his legs. We heard the locker room door close quietly.

"We're going upstairs, Oliver," called Angelina after a minute. "See you later."

"Practice tomorrow at five," was his only reply. I wanted to stay and wait for him, but I knew that it would look bad if I did. So I left with the others, resigned to my fate.

*

We plodded up to Gryffindor Tower. I think Fred and George were purposely lagging to delay the time they had to actually sit down and do work. No, wait—I _know _they were. Alicia kept shooting menacing glares at them, but they didn't notice. 

When at last we clambered through the portrait hole one by one, we found the common room deserted save for a small boy who looked up when we came through and quickly looked back down again. 

While we were waiting for Fred and George to climb through the portrait hole, Alicia and I exchanged exasperated glances, until a wet splat startled us out of our irritation. We looked down to see a toad sitting morosely on Alicia's shoe. I reached down and picked it up.

"Trevor!" said the small boy, running over. "That's my toad!"

He rushed away with the toad in tow. 

"I know that kid," said Fred, as George tripped comically on his way through the portrait hole. "That's Neville Longbottom. The one who keeps losing the toad."

"Yeah," said George. "Wasn't he one of those first-years stupid enough to get caught out last night?"

"_I _feel sorry for them," I said decisively, setting my Charms book on a table.

"Me, too," said Angelina. "Still—all those points..."

"Fred, if we'd lost a hundred and fifty points in our first year, do you reckon these fine if mercurial ladies would have sympathized?" George asked.

"No, George, I do not," said Fred. "They would have said, 'Serves you right.' Not very fair, _I _don't think."

"There's a whole other rulebook for you two," said Lish. 

*

An hour later, my Charms essay was finished and I could hear the Hallelujah Chorus in my head. I stretched out my cramped hand and leaned back in my chair. With a self-satisfied sigh, I announced that I was going downstairs, and ignored the resentful glares I was getting from Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia.

I took my time walking down the flight of stairs. It was too early for lunch, and it was no fun to eat alone anyhow. I tried to think where Wood would be—he could still be out on the pitch or in the locker rooms, for all I knew. Wood has been known to devote entire days to practicing, planning, or reading up on Quidditch. 

So I started the long walk out across the field, but all for naught—when I finally arrived, the locker room was entirely deserted, even the captain's "office," if it could be called as such. A more accurate name would probably have been "closet," but there was room for a chair and a desk.

But it was unoccupied, so I trudged back up to the castle. Maybe he'd gone to the library... I changed trajectories and nodded to Madam Pince as I meandered in. 

Not seeing him anywhere, I sighed unhappily and started to leave again. 

"Going so soon?" Madam Pince inquired. 

Surprised, I glanced around. You can usually count on Madam Pince to nod, provided you do first, or even to respond to a "hello," but it's pretty rare that she actually initiates a conversation. 

"Just looking for a friend," I said. "You haven't seen Oliver Wood around, have you?"

"You just missed him," she answered, dusting off a thick tome. "Said he was going up to his common room to get some studying done."

"Thanks," I said, heart sinking. 

I could have screamed out loud as I traipsed back up to Gryffindor tower. Honestly! He was probably going up because he thought he'd find _me _there, which was a presumptuous and proud thought but likely to be accurate all the same. 

I was about to give the Fat Lady the password when she swung open and (speak of the devil!) Wood came out, looking just as frustrated as I felt. 

His face lit up as the portrait drifted shut after him. "I've been looking for you," he said.

"_You've _been looking for _me?_" I said. "I went all over looking for you. I went outside again to the pitch and then to the library, where, by a rare phenomenon, Pince actually _spoke _to me, and not just to say hands off the books."

Wood laughed as we fell into step together. "She's in a good mood today because hardly any books are checked out. She's got nearly a full library."

"That _would _make her happy," I said. "Where are we going, anyhow?"

"Doesn't matter," Wood said simply, slipping his arm through mine. "Doesn't ever matter."


End file.
